| | 9:42 a.m. on a Sunday morning. It’s cool before the sun dials it up, bound for the 90s. Last night I sat out with my guitar, playing to the gnomes, the blackberry wine-scented brambles and a pair of dragonflies who appeared to fancy my rendition of Bobby McGee: twilight of my last Smidgeon Saturday. It has been a good run. Approaching Stacey’s return (August 18th, to be exact), I spent the better part of July hunched over craigslist housing ads, pondering my ideal scenario, short of landing another tiny lease. House or apartment? Roommates or solo? Location/neighborhood? Price range? In the midst of it, I managed to break away to the July tiny house mixer hosted by Portland Alternative Dwellings at Salvage Works in North PDX, where the reclaimed and reincorporated blur rubbish/treasure boundaries with surprising style--case in point: baby doll head planters. And if re-purposed baby dolls aren’t your thing, they also have nearly impossible to find reclaimed building materials, farm implements, crates, license plates, parts and pieces of history ready to lend your building/decorating project character and depth. They’ve done a fantastic job of designing the space for ample inspiration—a definite must see! Now, on to the big event! |
Inside and outside this candy store for the creative builder, the monthly Tiny House Mixer was in full swing. Dee Williams performed for the crowd a two-minute housecleaning of Jolene, her touring vardo, before introducing a string of tiny movers and shakers. There were City-backed small affordable housers, sustainable community seeders, tiny reality show hopefuls, building bloggers breaking from their labors to share experience. The whole event is one part happy hour and several parts grassroots, community, networking, Q&A, self-empowerment, paradigm-shifting par-TAY. Everyone’s invited. If you’re especially lucky, you might go home with a door prize, i.e. Dee’s The Big Tiny or a giant bag of composting sawdust--score!! Unfortunately, I have not mastered the art of snapping pics while simultaneously jotting names/notes for later report. The good news is, there are monthly practice opportunities. With any luck, my August 21st mixer report should contain more substance.
Meanwhile back on the home front, I gave the craigslist magic 8-ball one more shake. Up popped the 1936 Tudor with prolific cucumber and kale garden, sunflowers in the forecast, a fire pit and a large walnut tree prone to pegging unsuspecting backyard loungers with nuts. The house is currently inhabited by Jennifer (owner), Matthew (housemate) and 8-yr-old, part-time resident, Eva (Matthew’s daughter). I’ll have my own bedroom, separate art room (sweet!) and largely private bath, and there’s a clause in the lease for possible home improvement teamwork. Like so many things on this journey, it differs from what I had envisioned, and is exactly, perfectly what I need. What more could I possibly want, besides one last little thing....?
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| | The same week I found my housemates, I stumbled across a brand new, nearly finished tiny parked in a driveway along my pedi-commute to the office. Like the tiny connections around nearly every Portland corner, I was giddy at the discovery. I wasn't, however, expecting the watery-eyed pang of homesickness for my own wee house, still for sale on Whidbey... It makes sense, I suppose, teetering on the cusp of a big-house up-sizing... Of the seven years with my house, I spent more time building (five, at least) than I did in actual residence. Building, too, was a kind of inhabiting—getting into the guts, holding every piece of her in my hands, hardly noticing that what was being built was bigger than both of us. I am thrilled to be in Portland, at the Tiny epi-center. There is a palpable sense here that the frayed legal bonds on the movement are about to snap. It was the little house that brought me to this place. Ironically (or perfectly), it has become the thing I most need to let go. I’m ready. I have only one final wish: a buyer/new owner who will love her. That is all. May it be so. |
| Meanwhile, I'm exploring new PDX possibilities in and around my temp tiny digs. Finally made it out to Tango Berretίn--a fabulous venue full of potential new 'family.' I've become fond of the friendly crew at my mid-commute ritual, Rain or Shine Coffee. Back in Stacey’s excellently appointed kitchen, I improvise a batch of cucumber blackberry basil relish (check my Vittles page for the recipe) with cukes gifted by my new housemate and berries from just off Smidgeon's stoop. I scoop a generous dollop with my favorite Raincoast Crisps cracker and attempt to squint into the future. It glitters amorphously in the distance... Tomorrow’s my weekly check-in with realtor/friend, Daniel Goldsmith. His last report: the little house continues to garner attention… a call about every other day. Daniel remains optimistic. I tally the miracles of the last two months and the artful comforts of my temporary tiny sanctum. Yeah, I think to myself, me too. | |
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